


Monsters in the Yard

by reminiscence



Series: A World With Monsters [1]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Story (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, drabblechap, ffn challenge: becoming the tamer king challenge, ffn challenge: building blocks challenge, ffn challenge: the drabblechap endurance challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10051628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reminiscence/pseuds/reminiscence
Summary: Monsters lurk in all dark places, whether that's in streets or homes or minds. Both of them fight monsters: in different ways, different capacities - but maybe they're fighting the wrong monsters...or maybe there are just more monsters they could, and should, be fighting.





	1. 1.01

She was no sleeping beauty sleeping on a bed made of brass and gold and wrapped in the richest gown in the palace while waiting for her prince charming to walk up and peck her on the lips. Hell, she wasn't even asleep, let along dressed up prettily and waiting for a prince.

There wasn't even a such thing as a prince or a pretty gown in this world. Just nightmares, nightmares, nightmares…

Chains rattled. She laughed and dug her nails in to her sin. 'Sorry, puppy,' she whispered at the sharp pricks. She'd sharpened them especially. Just in case.

Well prepared, she thought. For when her little puppy grew up in to a big puppy and lost his head. But not enough. Never enough.

She laughed again. To herself and to that little big puppy that managed to snore away senselessly and still create hell. 'Never, never, never,' she chanted to herself. 'Never, never, never.'

If anyone could see her now, they'd be…shocked, to say the least. Perfect little doll Sayo with her head tumbling down. The girl who could watch blood and skin and other human bits splatter about her and not even flinch. But there was no blood or skin except maybe under those sharp nails of hers. Just nightmares: nightmares that made reality look like a breeze.

And until it was morning and the sun came up and the monsters prowling the streets faded back into their shadows, the nightmares would go on.

Even if she did manage to stave off sleep this night.


	2. 1.02

She was infamous for staring at all sorts of icky situations in the eye and not even flinching, but that was with her long sleeves and low drooping hat and the nice hard leather of her holster against her hip.

And that was when their pitiful excuse of a sun was still up.

"Daytime", everyone called it. A safety blanket from the monsters that stalked their streets in the "night". Their entire system of time was ruled by that – and had been ever since the sun had shrivelled in to the shadow it now was.

But she'd never been a sunny person, so it suited her just fine. Sure, her internal clock had needed a bit of adjusting, rearranging the night-life – but, in a way, she was still living the night life. Just during the "day".

And the night was accompanied by a little nightmare maker that'd been born from a sweet little hunting dog. And before, she'd be the one chasing whatever scent he threw up.

Now, she was the one playing catch and he was the one running after her. Even though the shadow of a sun was in the sky now and the shadows of nightmares still trailing after her like a lovesick puppy.

But it was a new day and it was time to get her hands dirty without a crack in her neatly crafted mask…

And it was a good thing for the world that she did have that pretty mask, wasn't it?


	3. 1.03

She caught up easily. Her opponent this time was clumsy and slow and didn't have anything on her.

Disappointing, frankly, because it wasn't enough for her to plunge into her role either. To plunge her in to the _day_.

But this was her job and he was her target and even if it was disappointing, she had to haul her over to HQ and the Chief.

And then she got to pry answers out of him, which may or may not wind up being more challenging than the chase.

She didn't think so. He looked like he'd wet his pants already. Scared of a little girl like her.

Shame, really. Even if she was in a black body suit, full with the goggles. There were crazier people out there. And the monsters hiding in the shadows. Hiding everywhere.

It was guilt. That was all it was. Because conspiring with monsters was against the law and punishable by hell.

And her job was to catch those people and drag them to that hell.


	4. 1.04

He screamed, inside the room. She left her puppy in there but stood outside herself because inside her head, there was a little her screaming and it made her want to barf.

All of them were monsters, after all.

Phasco was alright. He could defend himself from those sorts of monsters and her as well, even if he had to tear grown men from limb to limb and break his teeth while doing it.

Before she had the luxury of someone looking out for her, she'd tried to do that too. But human teeth are far more fragile, regardless of whether they're angels or demons underneath. Some people just wore their skin inside out. Pretended they were one when in fact they were the other and the screaming proved it.

Because they were very different kinds of screams: the truly afraid and the sadists who couldn't help the little glimpse in the mirror within their own cowardice.


	5. 1.05

He stared at her when she finally went in and he’d been all worn down. He stared at her with pleading eyes as though she’d feel sympathetic. As though she’d cut him loose from his chains and set him free – set another monster free into the world.

She laughed inside though outside her face was set in stone. She was a monster hunter and he’d be getting no sympathy from her. Not when she could smell those bodily fluids on him. The urine stench was strong and overpowering the blood, but this was a bitter tang mixed in.

They finished with him and finished him and zipped him up in a body bag and the smell was still there. They’d wash it out by tomorrow, probably.

Wasn’t her job. She’d already done her part and she was free to go.


	6. 2.01

He found the body in the morning.

It was already decomposing and it slipped through the pores of his mask and he wondered if he’d ever get used to the smell.

He probably wouldn’t, and his pearly white cat at home probably wouldn’t ever be used to it either.

He didn’t feel sympathetic in the least. Some people deserved death. Still, their stench clogged the sewers, clogged the streets.

They cleaned out the trash: the ones who killed the scum, and the ones who cleared their bodies off the street.

Sometimes, he felt like he got the unappetizing part of this job.

 _But you’re not a killer yet_ , his conscience pointed out.

As though this was any more pleasant.


	7. 2.02

He wasn't a killer but he still needed to scrub himself something fierce once the night was done. The miasma of the dead still touched him, and that wasn't to say anything about the blood and other bodily fluids as well.

They made such a mess, didn't they? Humans: when they were torn apart by monsters. He didn't know what sort of monsters but he wasn't old or experienced enough to know, either.

'Keep your stomach inside for once, and maybe then you'll find out,' the Chief had said, one time.

He didn't throw up on the scene anymore at least, but he never lasted after getting home.


	8. 2.03

At least he had someone waiting for him at home. Or something. Or whatever one would like to call a stray cat and he was honestly surprised she was still there every time because he didn’t have anything to offer no-one else did, and he had no claim on her.

But still, Gato would slink up to him and butt his leg and he was sure that if the cat was bigger and stood on two legs and had hands as well, she would pat him on the back as well.

But she’s just a normal sized stray cat who likes hanging out in his apartment and can stand the smell of dead people and vomit, and kudos to her.

Still didn’t stop him from emptying his stomach into the toilet bowel that morning – or any other morning, for that matter.


	9. 2.04

The Chief had sharp eyes. Or maybe it was a sharp nose. In any case, he always seemed to know what sat in Koh's toilet bowel and so he never let him advanced onto something more. 'Keep your stomach inside for once,' he'd repeat, if Koh ever complained. 'Then we'll see.'

And they never did see, because Koh just couldn't manage it.

The others clicked their tongues and gave him looks of scorn, because what was he doing there if he couldn't stomach the type of work they did? What was he doing there if he couldn't stomach the life they lead.

Why did he hang out with the Cleaners when he couldn't handle a dead body and everything that came with it?


	10. 2-05

It wasn't that he didn't have anywhere else to go. He did. There were other sorts of orphanages or people who picked up strays and ran with them. But he chose this place. Or the Chief chose him. Or they chose each other. One of the two. Whichever worked.

The truth was his past was ash coloured and bile coloured and he knew it but he still couldn't bear to open up the door that looked back there. He had to get stronger before he could. He had to work up in baby steps and these were those steps and the Chief was kind enough to accommodate him and get something any of his other kids could pick up the slack for in return.

But Koh needed to jump this hurdle, and the next, and the ones after that.

And then seize those handles with his bare hands and tug them open.

And face his past properly.


	11. 2-06

Before the past came the present.

This guy had Chief Julia written all over him.

Not _the_ Chief. For him, that was Chief Glare. But Julia was a well-known name. The leopard that chased monsters on the streets and ripped them to shreds and left them to be picked up by the morning shift.

'You should carry out your own trash, Julia,' Chief Glare would sigh.

And then he'd assign someone to go clean up because he knew full well Julia wouldn't.

And Koh would take his camera and his gloves and his stomach and drop the lattermost in the toilet bowl when he was done because he still hadn't managed to clear that hurdle yet.


	12. 3-01

Julia always left the trash behind.

‘It makes a statement,’ she’d say.

Then she’d frown when they’d be gone the next day because that wasn’t enough of a statement. Even when the news spread like wildfire. ‘Chief Glare,’ she’d mumble. ‘Always the gentleman.’

Though all of them had to wonder what made a man dog a woman’s shadow like that. Because that was what it was. Chief Julia painted the scenes. Chief Glare tidied them up. They worked in tandem even if it was never pre-arranged, as though Chief Glare always knew and followed up on them. Like there was a leak amongst them, or else Chief Glare was dogging their every step but that was silly because they were the bloodhounds that ripped apart their prey –

And left the trash behind.


	13. 3-02

There was so much trash on the street and they stained so many people.

They were good for the job because they were all sorts and fearless on the streets (despite how they cowered in the safety of their own homes). They’d lived on the streets, after all. They’d survived being splattered in all this mud and now, only now, could they work towards polishing those streets up.

This time it was young girls (and it very often was) and so she lurked in the shadows and waited. The others were scattered about as well. Equal baits. Dorothy was somewhere nearby and they’d be each other’s backups if they needed. If they screamed.

But they had to be pretty desperate to scream.

Because they made the trash scream instead.


	14. 3-03

The man found her. He smiled.

‘Trash,’ she spat.

His smile turned upside down but she was quick. She wasn’t paralysed by fear, or by disgust. She wasn’t even wearing gloves. She didn’t need them. None of them did because they’d already touched every dirty thing there was to touch, done every dirty thing there was to do.

Once upon a time but no more. Now they could fight back in confidence and live to tell the tale.

They hadn’t known, back then, how strong the weapon of surprise really was. He was down before he could react. She won without even a strike back.

She barked. The signal that all was well and she’d won. Dorothy appeared around the corner and whistled appreciatively, and then they each took an arm and dragged him under the lamplight.

They bound him and, then, she broke each of his fingers and toes waiting for Chief Julia to show.


	15. 3-04

Chief Julia hummed. ‘Not a scratch on you,’ she said. ‘And nice clean breaks this time. Once they’d be messier as you went, you recall.’

Yeah, she remembered. When she’d been younger. Newer. Before she’d managed to juggle everything. The emotions she felt. The emotions she should feel. The emotions she needed to pretend to feel and pretend not to feel.

She’d developed her switch. On and off. Day and night.

‘Yep, you’ve gotten a lot better. In fact, I think…’

But she didn’t say what she thought. Not in words anyway.

Instead, she handed her the knife.

Sayo took the blade. It felt warm, from the Chief’s hand. And the bound man whimpered and why not? She’d knocked him down and out. Broken all his fingers and toes and called him trash and answered not a single question or plea he’d thrown at her.

And now she was going to kill him.


	16. 3-05

Chief Julia liked to make statements. ‘It’s more effective,’ she explained, ‘when you can make use of the rubbish we clear out. Then maybe less people will litter.’

Plain and simple, even if they painted it with less bloody words. But blood in itself was a statement. The murder people screamed in the mornings was a statement. The disgust when their crimes were painted over the following days was a statement.

Really, the public hadn’t learnt at all. And neither had Chief Glare and his little circus group.

Chief Julia couldn’t be everywhere. She didn’t need to be. She trained her people well.

Now it was Sayo’s turn to pick.

And she knelt down and neatly cut through the pants and to the groin.

Chief Julia grinned. The man screamed.


	17. 4-01

Koh found the man at the lamppost just where Chief Glare said he’d be.

But he hadn’t mentioned the trail of blood-splattered coins and digits and genitalia leading up to him.

He didn’t even need to guess what this guy’s crime had been. Chief Julia and her gang couldn’t have made it more clear if they’d written it out in words.

And he swallowed hard to keep the bile down and pulled on his gloves.

And was glad he always remembered to carry gloves, now.

Once, in the earlier days, he’d forgotten them. He’d touched blood and entrails with his bare hands and passed out on the spot. That was back in the days of the buddy system, when the too new people were paired up with someone more experienced and with a stronger stomach.

Now he was on his own and his stomach could only just hold on.


	18. 4-02

He threw up as soon as he got home, predictably, and Gato came to sit on his lap once he was done. She always did that, as though the smell didn’t worry her at all. Or maybe the smell just attracted her.

Weird cat. She could sniff out blood, too. Blood on him. Blood on the streets when she wandered around and sometimes they had that job instead, looking for where Chief Julia had stuffed her latest art-piece…

Or not Chief Juila, per say, because somehow _their_ Chief, Chief Glare, always knew where Chief Julia had been. But one of their gang. Someone who’d graduated past the point of being given the script and who had a bit of autonomy in the final scenes.

And Gato licked his fingers as he leaned against the vanity.

Bile, blood and latex. Really weird cat.

But she was comfortable.


	19. 4-03

Chief Glare called him during the day. He didn’t often do that. Only when there was something in particular about a scene he wished to discuss. So Koh scrubbed his face hard and brushed his teeth until they bled and tried unsuccessfully to convince Gato to stay in their little one bedroom apartment and set off to meet him.

Chief Glare frowned a little over his coffee, and pushed the cup and saucer of tea over. Chamomile. Caught already, or perhaps Chief Glare didn’t have hope otherwise.

Still, free tea was free tea and it really did sooth the stomach. He accepted it gratefully.

‘About this morning…’

Or maybe Chief Glare had just been planning ahead. The tea sloshed uncomfortably in his belly.


	20. 4-04

'Did you look at the cuts?'

Of course he didn't. He just bundled them up and untied the dead body and scrubbed the place down and made it all look far more presentable and then escaped before the sun had finished its climb.

Chief Glare put something on the table. Two somethings.

And Koh bit down on his cup because otherwise he would have gagged.

Why the heck was Chief Glare carrying fingers around? At least he'd put them into specimen jars so the smell and rot wouldn't get out.

'Look at where they were severed,' Glare instructed.

It took him a moment to manage that, even with the tea.

One was neat. One was jagged.

Two different people did them.


	21. 4-05

‘This one.’ Chief Glare tapped the jagged one. ‘Was one you brought back this morning.’

The other was Chief Julia’s.

That meant it wasn’t her work. Not entirely. Maybe not at all. There was another new solo artist on the block.

‘Oh,’ said Koh.

‘Oh indeed.’ Chief Glare was frowning. ‘Koh…’

‘I’m sorry,’ Koh blurted out, fisting his shirt. ‘I’m still throwing up every time I get home, and barely paying attention to the scene and –‘

‘I know,’ Chief Glare said softly. ‘And it’s been so long and all you’ve managed to do is keep it all bottled up until you do get home. This isn’t right for you.’

‘No!’ He said it louder this time, so people looked over their table and Chief Glare hurriedly swept the specimen bottles back into his bag. ‘I have to…’

‘Why?’ asked Chief Glare.

He asked that the first time they met as well but Koh couldn’t answer then, either.


	22. 4-06

He threw up again. The Chamomile tea didn’t quite manage to keep the bile down and then he went through all those motions again: Gato climbing onto his lap and trying to get up onto the toilet bowl except it was far too slippery for her…

And thank goodness for that. He didn’t think he could deal with having to scrub all of _that_ off her fur.

She didn’t lick his fingers this time, proving it was the latex she liked. Silly cat.

But she was still the only comfort he had, sometimes.

Chief Glare gave in without too much of a fight. He always did. He wasn’t losing anything with Koh, after all. Koh just wasn’t getting anywhere.

And Koh was the only one losing out without getting anywhere. Koh… and the reasons he couldn’t let go of.

_I’m not disgusted. I’m not ashamed. I just…_

Gato hissed as he hugged her too tightly.


	23. 5

Her communication to Chief Julia was now mostly through the phone. There’d still be backup nearby because that was how they rolled but she was essentially their squad leader. Dorothy and Newton deferred to her. If she needed to call the Chief, she’d do it, but the Chief hardly showed up at the scene.

The pit-a-pat of her heart slowly settled down and found a new happy medium.

And her cuts slowly grew smoother, like her breaks.

All signs she was settling into her new role.

Because who needed to see how she shook and spasmed and screamed and cried and clawed at her arms in her daymares at home.

And then how she sat and stared at her blank wall and let it swallow all those swirling thoughts and emotions she no longer needed right up.


	24. 6

He wondered if Chief Glare was doing it on purpose, sending him to this new person’s scenes every time. He watched out for the cuts now that he knew. Watched out for everything even if that meant his stomach couldn’t quite make it home.

He looked because he had to. He kept on going because he had to.

He watched that shadow killer progress because he had to. Because he’d already thrown himself into this role and now his body and his mind both had to get used to it, because he wasn’t pulling out.

And then Gato gave chase one not-quite morning past a portrait and he followed.

And met the shadow face to face.


	25. 7

She ran late.

He ran early.

They stood there as the lamplight between them flickered and then went out, saying dawn wasn’t too far away.

She had her dog. He had his cat with him.

She stared at him. He stared at her.

She with her bloody gloves. He with his clean ones.

She with her blade still covered in red. He with hands bared.

‘Do you make it a habit to stand around when someone’s got a knife?’ she finally asked. Her spare hand went into her pocket.

Of course she had a phone or pager or something in there.

And he had no idea what they did to people they caught.

He grabbed his cat and fled.

She watched him go, then made her own escape as the first rays of sun began to show.


End file.
